


Growing Pains

by RileyC



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is hurt on patrol and it's up to Dick to get home safe...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

From a rooftop away, there was nothing Dick could do except shout a warning that wouldn’t come in time—“Br— _Batman!_ ”—as Killer Croc’s jaws fastened on Bruce’s shoulder and crunched down hard. Bruce wrestled free but Croc lashed out and raked vicious, razor sharp claws along Bruce’s chest and down his thigh. Those claws ripped cloth and flesh and sprayed blood, and fear punched Dick in the stomach again as he watched Bruce teeter right on the edge of the building and then fall as Croc hit him again. Barely even aware he was doing it, he whispered, “Please, please, please,” as Bruce plummeted—and then sagged with relief as he saw Bruce fire off a grapple line to swing himself out away from the building and down into the alley.

 

Croc could wait; he was never hard to find. Decision made, Dick swiftly rappelled down to the alley and swung over to drop down beside Bruce. He shot out an arm to catch him as Bruce staggered and eased him back against the cold brick wall. “Batman?”

 

The cowled head turned toward him and Dick had the impression Bruce was trying to focus on him but couldn’t quite do it. “Robin?” His voice was weak, some hard to define note of confusion in it. “Have to get...have to… Robin…”

 

“I’m here, I’m right here,” Dick said and caught hold of the hand Bruce extended. “I have to get you out of here. Can you walk, if I help?”

 

“…yes…” And Bruce did try to push himself back up but only made it part way before his strength gave out again and Dick had to catch him before he smacked into the brick.

 

Anxious, Dick tugged a glove off with his teeth so he could check Bruce’s pulse. He was no expert but he thought Bruce’s heart was pumping way too fast; there was a rapid, shallow quality in his breathing, too, that made him eye those vicious cuts with suspicion. They had been working on a theory lately that Croc’s bite was dangerous not just because of the damage those teeth could inflict but because of toxins that were transmitted with every chomp. Dick had a nasty feeling they had been on the right track.

 

For a moment Dick crouched there and stared down the dark alley. The Batmobile was parked down there, a block away, and for the first time he really understood what _so near and yet so far_ meant because right now that short distance might as well have been the top of Mount Everest. He was twelve years old and wanted so badly to be tough and strong and resilient but for just a second he really wished Superman would sweep down through the rain to help right about now. He even squeezed his eyes shut for and wished for that, harder than he’d wished for anything in a long time, because maybe Clark _did_ possess super telepathy but just hadn’t ever told people.

 

Nothing happened. He hadn’t really thought it would. With a quiet sigh, Dick opened his eyes again and squared his slim shoulders as he stood up and took stock of the situation. He could do this. He had to do this, he told himself and hunkered down once more to get hold of Bruce and get the larger man on his feet. Briefly, he considered a fireman’s hold but shelved that as a last resort.

 

One twentieth of a mile, two hundred and sixty-four feet, give or take—that was how far he had to get Bruce. He wasn’t sure if thinking of it in those terms really helped or not but he did get Bruce on his feet and started on that journey because, damn it, they didn’t call him the Boy Wonder for nothing!

 

No one ever had to know that he kind of wanted to sit down and cry for a minute, though.

 

***

“Batman? You still with me?” They had made it. Dick had managed to haul Bruce all of those two hundred and sixty-four feet to the Batmobile and it had only taken a couple of hours.

Well, it felt like it anyway, especially after he had wrestled Bruce into the car. He’d done it, though. The only thing left now was to get the seatbelt fastened around him, check to make sure it would hold him secure, and then he could finally allow himself to take a breather.

 

Only a brief one, he knew, as he rocked back on his heels by the open door, shoulders hunched against the cold. The rain had stopped awhile ago but the mercury kept right on with its descent.

 

“Robin?” Bruce sounded hoarse; weak but alert. “Good job.”

 

Dick felt his stomach flip over at the matter-of-fact praise and he pushed to his feet on a fresh rush of purpose. “Almost home,” he said as he closed the door and went around to the driver’s side.

 

He held his breath and waited for Bruce to tell him to call Alfred to come pick them up. All Bruce said, though, was, “Better adjust the seat.”

 

If Dick had been cold before, all he felt now was a fuzzy warm glow. He nodded briskly and replied in the same manner. “Will do.” If he knew anything about Bruce by now, it was that the only thing that spooked him more than showing his feelings was if someone called attention to it.

 

Once everything was fixed, he slid behind the wheel and firmly tamped down the buzz of excitement he felt at the prospect of driving the Batmobile. After all, technically this wasn’t even the first time. It would be the first time he drove the car outside of a controlled situation, though, with so much on the line.

 

He glanced at Bruce. “Ready?”

 

“Let’s roll,” Bruce said. Dick thought he might have smiled.

 

***

Cozy warm in his favorite sweater, Dick headed back down to the Cave and to the medical area. Alfred was still there, of course, and Dick stood back as he watched him check the dressing on Bruce’s wounds.

 

“How is he?”

 

“Resting at last.” Alfred was, as always, as difficult to read as Harry Potter translated into Kryptonian. When the Batmobile had rolled into the Cave with Dick at the wheel and Bruce barely conscious and bleeding all over the place, Alfred had merely quirked one eyebrow and remarked, “Ah, another festive night in Gotham, I see.” After that, it was down to the swift, no nonsense business of cleaning wounds and stitching them up. If there was a part of Alfred that ever wanted to quietly go off somewhere and treat himself to a speedy and efficient breakdown, he gave no sign of it tonight or any night when the two of them came home battered, bashed, and bloodied.

 

As much as Dick loved and admired Bruce, there were times he wanted to be Alfred when he grew up.

 

This was a familiar ritual, too, Dick thought as he pulled up a chair and sat down, his social studies book open in his lap. Usually the roles were reversed, though, and it would be him waking up to find Bruce there, keeping vigil over him. It felt strange to be the one waiting; waiting and hoping and scared despite himself. He’d never thought about that, if Bruce was ever knotted up with fear as he waited to make sure Dick recovered from a run-in with Two-Face or The Joker. That had been part of comfort. He would open his eyes and see Bruce there, Alfred nearby, and know he was home safe and everything would be all right.

 

It felt strange to discover there had always been these other layers going on.

 

***

When Bruce opened his eyes and looked at them, Dick said, “It’s okay, Bruce. We’re safe.”

 

Bruce nodded, glanced at Alfred, and settled back down.

 

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Dick added and watched him drift off into sleep again.

 

Alfred touched his shoulder briefly, gave him a nod of approval when Dick glanced up at him, and returned to his own novel as Dick turned his attention back to the causes and historical implications of the Black Death.

 

Piece of cake compared to a quiet night in Gotham, he thought, and turned the page.


End file.
